2311–A_warm_September_Seaside.html

A warm September Seaside

There is sand as soft as kisses
And the waves are ankle high
But the Sun aims down and misses
Through the cloud bespeckled sky.
In a beach pool full of fishes
Twenty toes are on the chase
And a seashell grants you wishes,
If you hold it to your face.

There are Dads enjoying bowling
To their sons who don’t get out.
While a plastic bag goes rolling
And its owner starts to shout.
Black-backed gulls are hunting ice-cream,
Watching kids of two or three.
There are scones served with some nice cream
And a lovely cup of tea.

Fishing boats are now returning,
At the turning of the tide,
From an afternoon of earning
From the spoils the seas provide.
There’s a kite that isn’t flying,
And another off the ground,
Though the breeze is hardly trying
There are gusts that can be found.

In the playground children playing
Man a pirate climbing frame;
They have lookouts up waylaying
Those who won’t join in the game.
As I stand here idly thinking
While the sea’s around my feet,
I can feel I’m slowly sinking
Like a windblown treasure fleet.

It’s a warm September seaside,
I’m becalmed on Sandbanks Beach.
There are dreams left on my lee side
And contentment’s just in reach.